Austin pointed to the rental boat, which was sinking at a sharp angle, with only a foot or so of the bullet-riddled bow sticking out of the water.

“Leaky boat,” he said.

“I heard a lot of noise,” the captain said. “Sounded like guns.”

Austin clamped his hand on the captain’s shoulder and turned him around.

“See that bag floating over there?” Austin said, pointing. “That’s mine. Can we pick it up?”

The doubtful look in the captain’s round brown face suggested he was starting to regret his decision to pluck his new passengers from the water, but he sensed that Austin would not be denied. The captain moved the boat closer so Austin could lean over and retrieve the dive-gear bag. Austin unzipped the bag and pulled out his wallet. He peeled off a fifty.

“This is to cover the tickets for the boat ride.” He gave the captain another fifty-dollar bill, and said, “This is for asking no more questions.” Holding out a third fifty, he wrapped his arm around the captain’s shoulders and, speaking low so he wouldn’t be heard by the other passengers, Austin said, “How much longer is left in the tour?”

“I dunno . . . half an hour, maybe,” the captain said.

“This is yours if you cut that time in half.”

The captain grinned, and the third fifty-dollar bill followed the first two into his pocket.

“You just bought the boat, man,” he said. “You and the lady, have a seat.”

Austin and Song Lee ignored the curious gazes of the other passengers and looked for a place to sit. The boat had a canopy overhead to block the sun, but there were no seats and passengers sat on stacked life preservers. A young Japanese couple on their honeymoon made room for the new passengers.

The tour boat captain was true to his word. Fifteen minutes after Austin and Lee had climbed aboard, he told the passengers to take one last look at the mysterious ruins. Using the housing of one of the twin outboards as a seat, he goosed both engines, and before long the boat was pulling up to the dock at Kolonia.

While Lee went off to the restroom to freshen up, Austin made his way to the dive shop. He returned the scuba gear in good condition but asked the crestfallen owner to come up with a figure to replace the boat and motor. Although the price was exorbitant, Austin produced a NUMA credit card and told him to charge the replacement cost. The bean counters at NUMA who kept an eye on finances had become used to Austin’s strange purchases. He asked for a receipt anyhow.

As the boat owner was writing out the purchase order, he said, “Your friend catch up with you?”

“What friend?” Austin asked.